MOTHERS’ DAY

Te Awamutu Courier, Volume 56, Issue 4044, 6 May 1938, Page 4

MOTHERS’ DAY

SUNDAY’S COMMEMORATION. WEAR A WHITE FLOWER. Originating in America, Mother’s Day is now observed each year practically throughout the world on the second Sunday in May. Its obser vance falls this year on Sunday next, and the Rev. Martin Sullivan intends to conduct a special evensong service in St. John’s Church to mark the occasion, and will take for the subject of his sermon “The Dedicated Scarecrow.” “Mother’s Day’’ is intended to be specially remembered by those away from home, who are intended to enter into a covenant with themselves not to let the day pass without at least having written to Mother, and possibly remembering her with a gift, which expresses love and regard. Those at home on Mother’s Day are expected to show Mother special consideration, to relieve her as much as possible of the domestic routine and to remember the occasion with some suitable tangible expression of re gard. The day is also observed as far as possible by those who subscribe to this sentiment by wearing a white flower. VERSES FOR THE DAY. (Sent in by a Paterangi correspondent. ) Back through the lapse of lonely years, Of light and shade, and bitter tears, I seem to hear My mother’s voice, soft, sweet and low — My mother’s voice, ah’ well 1 know Its cadence dear. Oft sitting, when the night bird wings His homeward flight and softly sings A plaintive song. Then mem’ry waves her magic wand. And summons from the silent land Dear ones long gone. Again I stand by mother’s knee, Again her sainted face I see, As in a dream. Then asks my heart, with voice of tears, For her; alas! the sad, sad years Lie daik between. Oh! mother, from that sphere divine, On wings of light cleave realms of time, Come thou to me, If only for a little space, That I may look on thy dear face. One moment see, As once I saw, thy tender eyes, That know not tears in Paradise, Grieved no more. I watch for thee, oh! mother dear; I listen, and I seem to hear Thy songs float o’er That lonely river, deep and wide, Which darkly rolls its Stygian tide From shore to shore: Silent and deep through lonely years Swollen with bitter farewell tears For ever more. Trusting, I’ll wait while life lasts here Till in that grand, immortal sphere, Where sorrows cease. We meet, and on thy loving breast My weary head shall be at rest In perfect peace.